


Calefaction

by DisorientedOwl



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Autobot Starscream AU, M/M, Sickfic, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11327238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisorientedOwl/pseuds/DisorientedOwl
Summary: This is a gift for my co-author LateralFlexor for being so kind and sticking to me this past month or so. Here's another fic in your favorite tag I hope it's everything you'd wish for! Thank you for being a great online friend and the best betareader/coauthor/cheerleader ever!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LateralFlexor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateralFlexor/gifts).



     Starscream was sick.

     No, not sick minded. Although, Ratchet could argue that was also true. No, Starscream was the normal kind of sick.

     Seekers got sick consistently. Most had difficulty regulating temperature between hot and cold, especially in high altitudes, and this flaw exposed them to any number of ailments. When grounded, they would flip-flop between being overheated and their engines being far too cold. Unlike what most grounders believed, that was the only biological difference. However, this made them prey to the imaginations of others.

     That’s why Ratchet had him isolated.

     It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust his team. Or even Starscream. It was more like he didn’t trust his team and Starscream _together_. Optimus Prime would probably be the only one to act responsibly around the svelte seeker but he was far too busy being…Optimus Prime.

     Grounders would misinterpret the heating engines as a coquettish display of lust. In turn, the aerial victim would often times not understand the situation, or become further heated by advances from another. The latter served to prove to said grounders the validity of their unscientific claims. Heat was an easy manipulator to the processing functions and it would push forth until shutdown.

     So Ratchet took care of him alone, which was no easy task.

     “Medic, I’m cold.”

     Starscream was fastidious, and in sickness it only worsened. Ratchet didn’t hold it against him; he had never heard of Megatron’s lieutenants receiving specialized care aboard the _Nemesis_.

     “Put some blankets on.”

     Starscream pulled up on his provided coverings, “They aren’t warm enough.”

     “Use the heating pad.”

     “But then I’m too hot.”

     Ratchet did his best not show his annoyance, but the seeker shrank away at his unintentional sigh, “Forgive me. I will not further bother you.” Starscream curled his digits into the thick cloth. It occurred to him he may be banished for overreaching.

     “It’s not that, Starscream,” Ratchet countered as soothingly as he could, “I don’t have enough resources here to provide for your frame type. You are not the problem.”

     The medic quickly tried to recall an alternative protocol to a mobile cooling flow regulator- perhaps some kind of makeshift one? No, the only plausible resource was his medical framework. His systems would heat and cool in reaction to the seeker’s, but perhaps that wouldn’t be a viable alternative. Ratchet was no less susceptible; there was a miniscule chance his own protocols would mimic the flight model’s and they’d both be unstable. Ratchet wouldn’t last as a stable provider for his team until the effect wore away.

     “The only remaining alternative is to climb in with you,” Ratchet said dismissively, knowing the seeker to refuse.

     Starscream practically screeched in agreement before reigning himself in, “If you insist, doctor.”

     Ratchet whipped his helm around at the near slip of a cheery response. He wondered for a moment if the seeker was faking it. Starscream _had_ been sick for awhile so why was he so eager? The physician made no move to come close, uncertain of how to proceed.

     Starscream shrank back again, frame sliding down to the berth to hide as he did when those around him were nonverbal. He always interpreted it poorly. It pained Ratchet to know what sorts of trauma he’d seen when he saw the flyer react so strongly to small cues. His helm internals were probably a cross-wired mess. “Apologies… I believed for a moment you were suggesting it.” His systems shook him in an involuntary shiver. “I am a fool, you would grow ill as well.”

     Starscream was rather young, in a general sense of the word when it came to Cybertronians. Ratchet was already a seasoned medical officer when Starscream was the rookie star of strategy. His prideful fostering into the Decepticon empire had led him to do many things thereafter, but none of that included taking care of himself. In his dramatic nature, he’d sulk and there would be no living with him should Ratchet leave him alone. He would refuse energon, medicated or not, and in turn make himself sicker.

     “I won’t fall ill,” Ratchet stated firmly. He stood, stretching out his joints before walking over to stand next to the berth, “But I need to make sure you’re okay with this.”

     “Why wouldn’t I be?”

     Ratchet vented, smoothing out the sheets in front of him, “I am not certain, now, may I?”

     Starscream scrambled to make room for the stouter bot.  Ratchet fumbled with the sheets before laying back. This whole thing was awkward, clumsy, and strange to him. He wondered how it would work out with those wide-swung wings. Perhaps Starscream could sleep sideways? That’s how he had seen him all the previous nights.

     But the seeker had another idea. His lithe frame curled over Ratchet’s and the Autobot froze as the ex-SIC to Megatron himself cuddled up on his chestplating and puffed his wings in a stretch before pouring them back to the berth behind him. A very lethal, pointed servo splayed over the medic’s door and the Autobot froze. Instinctually, Ratchet placed a servo on the seeker’s helm, if only to keep him still and relatively controlled.

     It was a surprisingly intimate thing coming from the seeker. Starscream rarely wanted to touch people-Ratchet assumed he felt it beneath him- but it was some of his elitism still shining out of the grime of deception.

_He’s cold, you glitch,_ Ratchet chided himself for the mixed fears. He set his internal systems to warm up to a more suitable temperature for the smaller frame. He patted Starscream’s helm to give him some comfort and looked anywhere but the frame of the other.

     They lay in silence. Starscream, surprisingly quiet, cuddled up next to his heating frame. Ratchet had nothing to say. He was thankful his teammates would never disturb them. It would be far too awkward to explain why he was allowing such a breach of bedside manner. The medic could only hope that Starscream would want to keep this close to his spark as well.

     Ratchet flinched suddenly as Starscream’s claw curled around the metal of his door. With the sudden negative response the seeker looked up, knocking aside the strategically placed servo on his helm.

     “I’m sorry,” Starscream didn’t sound very apologetic, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

     Ratchet studied the red optics looking up at him, trying to get a reading, “I shouldn’t be violating medical protocol in this way. I am not doing well by my patient.”

     Starscream frowned before returning to his original position. Ratchet quickly placed his servo back on the seekers helm, rubbing and patting to reassure him.

     “For the first time, I do not enjoy eliciting fear from an Autobot,” Starscream spoke low but Ratchet could still hear. “If you are uncertain, this is the finest medical attention I’ve received in millennia.”

      Ratchet only responded with a small hum. Starscream’s wings perked a little, then settled down.

     Silence again stretched over them, long enough for Ratchet to zone out thinking about his work. Although the heat in his own systems was a little uncomfortable it did little to distract the medic from his mental checklist of duties he would have to do once Starscream was well. 

     A soft chirruping interrupted his thoughts. Unwittingly, Ratchet had absentmindedly been petting the seeker’s helm. Starscream began making the soft happy noises in response.

     After a quick scan, Ratchet realized that Starscream was beginning to heat up again. Ratchet adjusted his internals, cutting off his heating mechanism and engaging his liquid cooling systems to run in full course. He thought about pushing the sheets off, but it would be better if Starscream had that balance. Ratchet set his systems to automatically detect differences in temperature, his medical protocol more able to pick up sensitive changes in Starscream’s core temperature. After some time, the seeker stopped his fidgeting, having cooled down sufficiently, and left Ratchet to his thoughts.

     Starscream nuzzled up against the cool metal of the Autobot medic, unsure of why Primus was smiling on him. Ratchet wasn’t known for his kindness towards Decepticons yet he’d patiently dealt with even the smallest of Starscream’s wishes. He would occasionally look pissed off, but would always deflect it as anything but Starscream’s fault. The seeker found himself liking being spoiled a little more each day. But this, this was far more pleasure than Starscream could ever ask for.

     The seeker listened to the venting and flow of Ratchet’s systems. When the medic talked or made soft noises it would rumble in his chestplating. He wanted dearly to splay and dig his digits all over the Autobot’s broad expanse, but he had been so scared before he didn’t want to try it again.

    Ratchet dropped his servo from Starscream’s helm and the seeker looked up to protest and found only the sleeping face of the Autobot second in command.

     Starscream definitely wanted to pout and kick up a fuss to wake the sleeping medic, but from how often Ratchet was out, he probably took so few breaks. The Autobot probably didn’t even mean to nod off, it just happened. Starscream didn’t mean to give into his less than honorable thoughts so easily but Ratchet was the envy of the Decepticon army. He was a rarity for any ‘Con to see. Starscream knew firsthand the kind of things Megatron spat out about _this_ Autobot and it made the seeker curious. Curious to know if the violent complaints were true.

     Despite having energon on his servos, he had such gentle care for those affiliated with team Prime. Starscream scraped gently at his door frame while he thought, wondering if there would be a reaction such as the last time.

     None came; the Autobot was deep within his recharge.

     Starscream stretched his wings and propped himself up to look at the Autobot. His body was still, but his face displayed no furrow as it normally did. Ratchet could have been grimacing for all he cared and he still would exceed his fellow team members in looks and skill. After all, the medic and he came from the same class even if it was at different times. It was wrong, the rest of his ideas of him- Starscream knew that- but he felt he could blame it on his own flawed nature if he got caught. Ratchet had been so forgiving, unlike the other Autobots.

_No,_ Starscream chided himself for indulging in such thoughts. But he had lost any semblance of impulse control long ago. He would take what he could get and plead forgiveness later.

     Starscream didn’t care. It wasn’t the sickness that was driving him mad, it was Ratchet’s frame. They were the same size but Ratchet seemed so much firmer, stronger, and far prettier than Starscream believed he could ever be. Starscream let his servos wander over the medic’s frame, keeping his touches gentle and light as to not wake him from his recharge. His doorframe, his strong cabling in his arm, the red of his undercarriage all felt luxurious against Starscream’s claws.

     “Why did you crawl into a berth with me, Autobot?” Starscream murmured, hoping for answers yet anticipating that Ratchet would remain in his deep sleep.

     Claws trailed down to the Autobot’s midsection where a ribbed edge grill was. Knock Out was the only Decepticon enthusiastic about grounders and it was his endless, vain droning that informed him of how rightly placed it was for Bulkhead's alt mode. Ratchet's wasn't that much different.

     Ratchet was cold to the touch because of Starscream’s heat. Knock Out didn’t have any kind of useful medical protocols like he did. Often times, if it ever happened on board the Nemesis, he was left to shiver and over heat alone. When it suited Megatron’s needs he’d be torn from whatever hole he’d managed to hide in and was kept in the leader’s regulator. So, it had been a rather pleasant surprise for the routine scans Ratchet had to pick up the beginnings of sky sickness. 

     Starscream recalled the look of concern and how professionally Ratchet switched to providing him care. Starscream thought for a moment Ratchet was offering something more than his usually kind yet sterile care. But no, Ratchet had fallen asleep rather than touch him with those war worn digits, tracing cool digits over the seekers frame.

     The aerial was known for flights of fancy but there were so very few opportunities. Optimus had warned him that any treachery and Starscream would be back in cuffs.

_It wasn’t really treachery_ , Starscream reasoned with himself, it was getting to know his fellow Autobot, intimately. The seeker wriggled until he was firmly able to seat himself on top of Ratchet’s midsection. Starscream was certain the medic would’ve awakened yet nothing came, no reprimand shouted out or a push for him to leave.

     Perhaps the medic had his own trick, but no, Ratchet was sound asleep. It irritated Starscream to not be fawned over, but would the medic even do that when he was awake?

     Experimentally, Starscream began to gently rub his closed panel against the raised edge of Ratchet’s grill. Knock Out was right, the ridges of the alt form felts so pleasurable.

     This wasn’t as subtle as touch. Starscream was sure to be caught if he let himself be taken by the soft vibrations of rubbing his panel against Ratchet’s grill. He stretched out his wings and lounged over the Autobot, murmuring mostly to himself, “Such a pity.”

     He trailed a digit along the medic’s faceguard before leaning in for a chaste kiss, flickering his wings slightly.

     He pulled away to see two bright optics staring up at him.

     “Ratchet!”

     The medic blinked and grasped Starscream at the kink in his waist. Starscream flared, expecting to be thrown out of the berth.

     “Starscream,” Ratchet began, “You’re burning up.”

     The medic made a sharp click and noise of disapproval, “You squirmed around so much the sheets fell off.”

     Starscream relaxed as he was wrapped up in sheets and in the medic’s embrace. It was the strange comfort that made him speak up, “Medic, interface with me.”

     “Starscream, you’re ill,” Ratchet responded fluidly despite his distraction with checking out the seeker’s systems.

     “If I wasn’t-“

     “Yes, yes. Stop fidgeting and get some rest. I’m not going to stay in here if you don’t.”

     Starscream perked up and picked at his own servo, “Really?”

     But Ratchet already returned to his recharge cycle leaving Starscream to snuggle up to the medical officer, wondering if what he said was true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I was supposed to just make this a super quick sticky time but I figured I wanted to flesh it out a little bit more so it will be three chapters.

     Ratchet woke up once his recharge cycle ran through, the first thing that he noticed was that he was essentially tangled up in the Decepticon. He ran a quick systems check and noted that Starscream’s spiked temperatures had evened out midway through his accidental nod off. He would have to talk to Optimus about getting Starscream in the air. Of course, the Decepticons would be on them like a pack of mangy scavengers but even if it meant a few minutes it would do the aerial some good.

     Ratchet untangled himself from the limbs of the Decepticon. He didn’t mean to wake the sick seeker but Starscream stirred immediately from the movement.

     “Where are you going?”

     Ratchet didn’t expect him to cling so tightly, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was going to see if we could get a detail for you to get some flight time.”

     Starscream finally detached from him, “Oh.”

     “Do you want that?” Ratchet didn’t mean to sound so gruff.

     “Of course,” Starscream stiffened, “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry.”

     Ratchet vented out a sigh, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Starscream. Regardless of what you worry, I will patch you up any time. I’ll go get Optimus.”

     After Ratchet cleared the situation with Optimus, he came back to an empty medbay. It had been a long time since he could sit in there alone. It wasn’t a massive space, so sharing it with the seeker had been a very interesting experience. Normally a patient wasn’t isolated and he had to kick out Arcee or Bumblebee from visiting. Ratchet wondered if his fellow Autobot’s would even attempt to visit Starscream. There were a lot of hard feelings for the second in command, but they were dispelled long ago for Ratchet. Starscream found Energon caches, hidden Decepticon relics, and for the first time in a long time Optimus was in Prime condition to fight Megatron. They were losing battles but as far as Ratchet was concerned, they were that much closer to peacefully ending the war. It was rare for a Decepticon to defect, and with how high up Starscream was, the price of betraying Megatron might be too high. Someone had to worry about the brat and it wouldn’t be any of the younglings.

     “Ratchet!” 

     Now that his patient was gone, Autobot’s came and went as they pleased and Arcee was back with a vengeance.

     “Yes, Arcee.”

     “I still feel that weird vibration in my alt mode.”

     Ratchet vented, “I told you when we first landed that you needed a stable alt mode. What do you want me to do, give you training wheels?”

     “It’s different this time.”

     Ratchet rolled his optics but pulled up his diagnostics nevertheless. It was always a little different each time she came in, but Ratchet rarely saw change in her systems. He never denied her and he changed his approach each time she came in to soothe any worries like a placebo.

      As he ran a systems check he talked. “How are things, you know, out in the field?”

     “Ugh, so annoying now that Starscream’s back. He gets so fixated on the smallest of things.”

     Ratchet just shook his helm. It sounded like Starscream.

     “We were on guard with him today flying under the radar. Well, Optimus wanted something for it, you know? And Starscream yelled at Bulkhead and called him names because he dropped some energon.”

     “Did it explode?”

     Arcee shifted, “No…”

     “That was very lucky. You have to be more understanding. Starscream is not used to failure being forgiven. Any mistake was usually stripes on his shoulderplating.”

     Arcee blanched, “You’re taking his side now?”

     “His side is our side, Arcee.” Ratchet wanted to be as spoiled rotten as his teammates, but he didn’t falter. He shoveled over a small cube of energon. It wasn’t medicated, but Arcee didn’t have to know that. Her small frame wasn’t so efficient sometimes, having a little more energon couldn’t hurt. “I suggest you take this and take that chip off your engine block.”

     There was more Ratchet wanted to point out. That no matter how much Arcee hated Starscream it wasn’t as if that hatred could bring back her partners. Ratchet didn’t expect anyone to learn that lesson like he had. He didn’t expect anyone to know what it was like to see a patient die and have to save their killer the next cycle.

     “Thanks, Ratchet,” Arcee finally softened, “But I don’t think I can forgive Starscream.”

     “I’m not certain he’s asked for it,” Ratchet countered. “So you understand each other.”

     He hoped he sounded sagely enough for Arcee. Sometimes Ratchet wanted to shout, or scream at someone. He was working and reworking a synthetic energon formula and on top of that Optimus expected the world from him. It wasn’t like Ratchet to disappoint. They had the immobilizer and more with Starscream’s presence. With a good formula they could turn the tide of the war for sure.

     With a sharp chirp, Bumblebee entered the medical room leaving a trail of energon behind him.

     “Primus above, Bumblebee,” Ratchet put his servos on his hips, “I know you haven’t been in battle so what is this about.”

     Bumblebee spoke in his usual short form that Bulkhead and he were roughhousing again. Bulkhead would be by if his injury bothered him.

     “We don’t have time for this ‘Bee.”

     Bumblebee shrugged and hopped up on the table. As far as patients went, Bumblebee was one of the best. But it was from how many times he ended up in the medbay. The young scout was far too brash. He was about Starscream’s age so he was still very energetic and it got him into a lot of injuries. Including ones that Ratchet couldn’t fix with how limited his supplies were.

     Bumblebee reached a servo up to stroke gently at Ratchet’s helm. It burst the medic from his troubled thoughts. The scout patted his faceplate and leaned up to gently pulse his metal cheekily. It was the best attempt at affection the scout could give with his mask still covering his marred faceplate.

     Ratchet pushed away, “Alright, don’t take advantage.”

     The situation seemed strangely familiar, but Bumblebee often did such coquettish things to distract Ratchet from the pain he felt every time they wound up in this position. Granted, not every medic could give Bumblebee means to communicate. It only inhibited human-to-Cybertronian conversations, but it was a failure nonetheless. A failure Bumblebee knew he was reminded of every time they met, so the scout did his best to distract him.

     It was an energon line where a previous patch had broken. Ratchet would have to ask Agent Fowler for another favor in that case. The United States government was getting more and more nitpicky with how much they were allowed. But at this point, the materials on hand weren’t doing much good.

     Bumblebee waived off a proffered energon ration. He was a good kid; Ratchet only hoped he’d survive all this. He was a bit of the baby of the team. Everyone loved him and wanted to protect him. Ratchet watched him go with his usual amount of concern.

     But there was work to do.

     If Bumblebee and Bulkhead were sparring, it wouldn’t be too long before his work was interrupted and Bulkhead was a bit of a baby in a different way. The easier thing would be to go after Bulkhead himself.

     Ratchet tidied up before realizing he would just have to unpack everything again.  Might as well leave it be. If he hadn’t been planning to go out himself, he never would have noticed the lithe form that slunk into his medbay. Starscream was so quiet compared to the others.

     “Hello,” Ratchet froze midway through a motion.

     The seeker locked the door behind him, “Hello, Ratchet.”

     “Are you feeling okay?”

     “Yes, I’m fine,” Starscream sat daintily on the berth, smoothing down its sheets and flicking off some debris left behind by Bumblebee.

     Ratchet was a tad bit confused, but he turned to Starscream nonetheless and began to run a scan.

     The seeker put a servo on his arm and Ratchet met his optics. They were awfully close but it wasn’t anything unexpected. Except for that unnerving red color of Starscream’s optics.

     “I’m not here as a patient, Ratchet.”

     “Oh?”

     Starscream’s wings fluttered and then drooped, “You don’t remember at all do you?” Ratchet’s optics widened as Starscream pushed gently on his scanning arm to stand, “Forgive my intrusion. I don’t why I even expected anything.”

     “Wait.”

     Deep down inside Ratchet was very much empathetic and Starscream was very dramatic with all of his emotions. When the seeker was in pain, you knew it. Ratchet wasn’t sure what detail he missed, but while his processor focused on that he could at least provide some comfort.

     Starscream looked up at him, a sliver of hope rising up through the utter misery that radiated from his form.

     “Starscream,” Ratchet took in a deep breath, “Let’s just sit here and talk about it. Why don’t you remind me?”

     The seeker nodded, his helm ducking down and Ratchet sat on the berth and patted next to him.

     “Did something happen with the others?”

     “No!” Starscream seemed genuinely upset, “It wasn’t that. I just thought you’d remember.”

     “Starscream, I’m old. What am I supposed to remember?”

     It was more of an excuse than anything. Ratchet remembered most everything except sometimes where he would absentmindedly place something. But as far as the time with Starscream he didn’t recall saying anything weird.

     “When I kissed you, when you lay in a berth with me, I asked you.”

     Ratchet finally found the memory, replaying it in his mind, “Oh… _Oh!_ ”

     Starscream looked positively dejected. He scratched at his own arm and looked away.

     “Well, wouldn’t you rather do something like that with Bumblebee? I know he doesn’t seem like he’d be willing,” Ratchet began to babble, “But sometimes I feel like if it wasn’t just us five he’d be a lot more-“

     “No,” Starscream turned that razor sharp focus on him again. “I want you.”

     Ratchet fidgeted a little in his seat beside the seeker, “I’m sorry I just assumed it was a side effect. I didn’t mean…” Ratchet cut himself off before he said something terrible.

     “Exactly,” Starscream stiffened and Ratchet saw the familiar Decepticon Commander in his form. He stood and tucked his servos behind his backstruts, “I will reflect on my actions.” He nodded as if to say goodbye, “Medic.”

     Ratchet pinched his nasal bridge, “Wait.”

     Starscream reached for the door.

     “ _Wait._ ”

     With the more insistent call, the seeker paused.

     “I don’t see why we can’t work this out,” Ratchet sighed, “We can talk about this.”

     Starscream returned to the berth, Ratchet could tell he was still pouting but at least he was going to stay.

     “Why, exactly, do you want to interface with me?”

     The fidgeting aerial might have been lying as he was known to flatter with his words, “I felt nice lying in the berth with you. Gentility may be commonplace among Decepticon ranks but gentleness is not.” The seeker unfurled the claws he had mindlessly balled. “But you Autobots are rather different. I thought for a moment that I could have been accepted.”

     “You think the only way to be accepted is through interfacing?”

     Starscream gave him a cold glance, “Do not mock me, Ratchet. Do not think for one moment I do not see how my _team,”_ the word was spat out vehemently, “Feels about me.”

     Ratchet patted the other’s pede to avoid a long tirade, “I know. But you don’t need to show your appreciation this way.”

     Starscream continued as if his sentence was rubbish, “And do not think for one moment, Ratchet, that if this war had not begun I would not pursue you.”

     Ratchet swore he had misheard, “Pardon?”

     "No matter the differences you feel lay between us,” Starscream gestured, “Our age, perhaps the more notable one…but I would still pursue you. A medical class mech, top of his field with a knack for having a good time. I would aim to be among your peers for certain, if not in your inner circle.” A delicate servo reached out and Ratchet didn’t pull away. “You cannot make me believe you don’t know your own beauty, Ratchet.”

     If Starscream’s success in the field was any indication, Ratchet was sure his surmising was correct.

     “I just don’t understand,” Ratchet admitted finally.

     “You don’t have to understand, Ratchet. I want you. There is no illness nor trickery involved with my desire.” Starscream placed his other servo on Ratchet’s white lined thighplating, “Once would quench me for a thousand years if that is your wish.”

     It had been a long time since Ratchet was talked to like this. Yes, Bumblebee had a knack for being cheeky but he was affectionate with everyone. Wheeljack made a pass at him once, but Wheeljack made a pass at anything with at least one wheel and an energon converter. Hell, Wheeljack had probably made a pass at Starscream.

     But Starscream rarely showed any kind of interest in any mech. He had an air of superiority that followed him even if he was bowing and scraping. He certainly wouldn’t stoop so low as to involve himself with his underlings. Ratchet couldn’t imagine any of Megatron’s lieutenants fraternizing with each other given the amount of distrust between them.

     In the back of his processor, Ratchet pointed out to himself that Megatron would be out for revenge against Starscream for betraying him. Getting attached was just asking for it. But it was all drown out by the loud static caused by the two servos against his bare metal.

     “I…” Ratchet was finding it rather difficult to push out his words. There were those optics, looking forlornly up at him. When the seeker leaned forward he flustered and grasped at his waist, as if it would rescue him from all this.

     Starscream glanced down to the servos on him and then back up, still leaning forward. Ratchet crashed his helm against Starscream’s crest, nuzzling a little in a strange combination of fear and faith. He didn’t want Starscream to think he wasn’t wanted. At the same time, the words uttered still hung in his processor. He advanced a little further, causing Ratchet to pull back. It gave the seeker enough room to swing a pede over. He was sitting on him now, adjusting his servos to latch around Ratchet.

     “Yes?”

     The seeker’s hum brought him from his shock, “Yes, what?”

     “You were about to say something.”

     Ratchet shook his helm, “Don’t get your hopes up.”

     Starscream frowned and looked off to the side, as if he was thinking. But after a moment of staring, Ratchet started to get worried and tried to look over his shoulder. The seeker lurched forward and nipped at Ratchet exposed neck cabling causing an outcry. The medic threw himself back and reflexively hid the spot on his neck.

     “You’ll get us caught screaming like that,” Starscream looked down on him now, his wings creating shadows in the harsh fluorescence. “This is an awkward position, move up.”

      He felt rather trapped beneath all this grey, there was nowhere to move.

     “Hurry up,” Starscream ordered, “Or turn around so I can take you from behind.”

     Ratchet’s engine’s flared up at that, “Primus.”

     Starscream tilted his helm and grinned, “Is it too dirty for you?”

     “Of course it is! You’ll make my converter go out talking like that,” Ratchet protested, “Give me some room.”

     Starscream settled back, “It turned you on?”

     “Of course it did!” Ratchet snapped out, shuffling over to sit more braced on the berth, “Could you imagine being told how you’re wanted.”

     “You are definitely wanted,” Starscream stretched out, “By more than just me. I know I said I’d be satisfied with anything but I can’t help but entertain fantasies.”

     “I hate to ask what kind.”

     Ratchet was rewarded with a gentle swipe at those words, he finally laughed at Starscream’s chagrin.

     “I’ve gotten all heated and you don’t feel a thing do you?” Starscream lashed out, “I’m the only one bothered by this.”

     Ratchet smiled and shook his helm, reaching up to stroke Starscream’s faceplate, “No, I’m just much better at hiding it. I still can’t believe the deity of deception could possibly be this blunt.”

     “I like nice things,” Starscream was pouting even as he was settling back on Ratchet’s lap, “You can’t blame me for wanting you.”

     Ratchet wondered if he was like this when he was younger. “I’m bothered by it.”

     “What?”

     Ratchet spoke a little louder, “Of course I’m bothered by it. What am I supposed to do in this situation?”

     “Kiss me.”

     Ratchet spluttered, but Starscream looked so serious. “Fine, one kiss.”

     Starscream’s wings fluttered again. He looked as if he would protest the limit, but he needed no convincing.

     “One kiss,” He affirmed, edging ever closer to Ratchet’s faceplate.

     Ratchet couldn’t help but feel cornered as the seeker practically sank his talons into him, pressing him down to the berth to give him a kiss that was anything but chaste.

     Starscream dipped his glossa into Ratchet’s mouth causing the medic to arch into the kiss. They exchanged oral fluids for what seemed like a millennia before Starscream pulled away. Those devious optics stared into his very spark and Ratchet hated that smirk that played at the edge of his mouth. It was like he knew.

     Ratchet collared the Decepticon and brought him back into a second kiss, not meaning to be rough but not wanting to stop. The kiss tasted sweet and cooling and Ratchet found himself wanting more and more of him. Starscream let him come for him after each kiss, always pulling away and making Ratchet pull for more. His claws scraped against Ratchet’s metal each time he brought their faceplates together.

     Starscream finally pushed away and slipped an edged digit between their lips, “One kiss.”

     Ratchet panted out and the realization of what he’d done finally hit him and he felt heat rise up in his faceplate.

     Starscream recognized it and crooned softly to calm the panic rising up into Ratchet’s frame, “Shh, it’s okay Ratchet. I just got a little carried away that’s all.”

     Ratchet turned away, “I’m sorry.”

     “Don’t be. This is my fault for not controlling my impulse.”

     Again that hated way Starscream turned the blame on himself. It was too much, the feel of his metal against him, after so long, this wanting little bird eager for him seemed to short circuit his very neural net. 

     “If you don’t mind,” Ratchet’s voice waivered, “I’d like to continue.”


	3. Chapter 3

     Starscream’s entire frame stiffened, “What do you mean you’d like to continue?”

     Ratchet didn’t expect such a different reaction. Truth be told, he was starting to heat up and he wanted more kisses. The seeker was just so passionate and forward. Ratchet could probably receive kisses any time if he asked, but how embarrassing to ask Prime. Bumblebee was pretty forward with his love, but Ratchet always worried it was the fact there really wasn’t anyone else around. Now, there was a young aerial passionately kissing him and he didn’t realize how much he wanted more.

     “Why?”

     Ratchet blinked, surprised to see Starscream asking questions rather than taking the opportunity. “’Why?’”

     “Why do you want to continue?”

     “I don’t know,” Ratchet admitted to himself and to the interested seeker, “I guess I’m excited.”

    “Excited about me?”

     Ratchet looked over the faceplate of the ex-Con, “Of course, Starscream.”

     He was rewarded with another kiss, glossa of the youngster filling his mouth and driving a strangling heat into his processor. Digits dug into his metal and slipped under his plating, each pointed end stirring up a strange sensation. Each time they parted, Ratchet would be caught between enjoying it and running as fast as his wheels could take him. He wasn’t pinned down; he could throw the seeker off at any moment and order him away. He would be so disheartened he would never bother Ratchet again in all likelihood. Then, Starscream would lean in and all he could think about was the energy tingling between them. How sweet Starscream’s oral fluids mingled with his own with each time his glossa dipped in his mouth. Wishing the kisses would last forever engulfed in the heat of gentle touch.

     After the third time, Ratchet finally realized he’d been kissed and coddled solely by the seeker and not reciprocated. His younger self would never forgive such a party foul. Ratchet prudently grasped at the familiar waist and squeezed. He let Starscream get used to the weight before insistently pulling.

     There was no longer that delicate space between them. Now they were pressed metal to metal. Daringly, Ratchet traced digits up Starscream’s back. In response, Starscream began to hump into him, running his panel along the medic’s grille. Ratchet couldn’t help but clamp down harder. There was heat outside of him, a fire burning against his grille and static in his processor and it seemed they both wanted the same thing.

     “Ratchet,” Starscream pulled away from the makeout session, “Please interface with me.”

     Ratchet almost stalled. He squirmed and pulled his servos away to cover his own faceplate.

     “Are you embarrassed?” Starscream’s question seemed genuine as he attempted to pry the digits away.

     Ratchet showed his faceplate, overcome with embarrassed pleasure. Starscream’s optics widened and then he gave a soft, kind smile, “You don’t like it when I talk like that? When I tell you how much I want you to bend me over and tell me what a good Autobot I am?”

     If Starscream was going to say more, Ratchet interrupted with a harsh low tone, “Please don’t speak so lewd.”

     They kissed again and again while Starscream humped his grille, sending vibrations through the two of them. The seeker finally pulled away, slipping off of Ratchet to lean back, pedes apart, tilting his helm down to look submissively up.

     Ratchet gave in to his coding. What did it matter where they were; right now he wanted that pleasure and he found himself between Starscream’s pedes.

     “Do you want me to open for you?”

     Ratchet could only nod, gasping out heat in his effort to keep a degree of his processor intact. Starscream kept good care of himself and his equipment was no different. A glimmering spike rose from between grey panels, reddened by the core. He reached out to caress Ratchet’s faceplate. The medic wasn’t expecting a bent tip. Unlike Starscream’s frame, his spike was built for high efficiency. Ratchet wasn’t even sure it would fit without some coaxing, but the seeker had already outshone him in the kissing department. His age was showing in the worse kind of way and he wanted to prove himself.

     The seeker anticipated his downward movement and caught his helm again, turning it up.

     “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” he purred, “But please don’t over-exert yourself.”

     After an obedient nod, he was allowed access to the glittering, highly maintained spike. Unlike Ratchet, it seemed daily maintenance was normal for the aerial. He almost felt guilty to dirty it with his oral fluids.

     A glossa peeped out shyly and hesitantly licking at the tip, Starscream turned those claws around his helm, trailing the tips until they caught on his chin guard.

     “It’s,” he said it so breathy, “It’s alright if you don’t want to. Don’t push yourself.”

     He turned his helm against those long digits, taking on those gentle scrapes before pushing Starscream’s spike into his mouth with his glossa.

     It was too much. It had been far too long for him, for anyone, to indulge him in such luxuries. The feeling of wanting to pull away in shame or push forward fought it out deep within him. Yet he still gently curved his glossa around the tip; still close his mouth around it lovingly, still closed his optics and felt the weight of another’s spike in his mouth. The feeling overtook his processor, he could think of nothing but the sensation of something in his mouth. A mouth full of spike wasn’t something people expected him to enjoy, want, or even drool over like it was a pile of energon. Yet, he was losing it with just a bit of this notched spike in him. A moan struggled out from the seeker as Ratchet began to suck gently.

     “Ahn, are you sure you like it?”

     It was nice to see that Starscream was careful. The medic responded only by nodding, his helping of spike slowly increasing with the subtle movement.

     It would gag him, he knew it, but in a weird way when he thought about it pressing against the back of his voicebox, struggling to push forward, gently stuffing his airways, the more his panel flared hot. There was a warm fullness in him and the gentle caress of light digits on his helm that made him feel good.

     He flicked his optics to the seeker who seemed to be enjoying himself well enough. He had firmly clamped down on one of his digits as to not moan with his worry of being caught. His optics closed and he kept a gentle hand on Ratchet’s helm. Why were they doing this? What in the world possessed him to take advantage? Why was he advancing this spike further and further in?

     It would take some encouragement to go any further so Ratchet began to gently wriggle his helm from side to side, coaxing the spike further than his glossa could push it in. Starscream’s moan hitched higher, his hips raised with an urge to thrust up. The harsh scrape made Ratchet gag.

     Starscream scrambled to raise his helm, he dimly heard the aerial apologize as he coughed a little transfluid out. Cool digits rubbed at his chin but as soon as they slipped away he lovingly went downagain. Transfluid had an oddly salty sour taste that seemed almost poisonous. Starscream’s should have been no different but it seemed sweeter and almost addicting. Then again, it had been awhile. Ratchet didn’t understand why it had if every spike was this good. Starscream was having more and more trouble keeping his moans to himself. Both servos put pressure on his helm.

     “Stop, Ratchet. I’m hurting you,” the seeker exclaimed after Ratchet gave another harsh gag. He was forced to rise up again.

     Ratchet’s systems were greedy for cool air as he gasped between coughs, “Please, don’t make me stop.”

     Starscream gave a half smile, shaking his helm, “Who’s lewd?”

     “I am,” Ratchet furrowed his brows, wondering if the question had been rhetorical.

     “Why do you want it like this?”

     It was apparent he wouldn’t be able to continue his lusty oral if the question wasn’t answered, “I like the smell and the taste and the feel inside me.” Just talking about it sent surges of desire pulsating through his panel and he hunched over, almost in pain from holding back.

     “Yes, yes go on then.”

     Ratchet wanted to hate the way Starscream lounged back and hid his cunning smile but he couldn’t. He couldn’t hate anything about this svelte form that sat before him. Even the thoughts of how many Autobots ended up on his operating table because of him went to the wayside. It all went away with each heated breath.

     Ratchet couldn’t help himself to kiss Starscream’s thighplating before lapping out at his spike again. Starscream returned to biting his digit keep quiet so they sat in heated silence with only the sound of Ratchet’s gentle slurping. Ratchet ignored his own gagging until Starscream bucked too far in, with more than he bargained for he had to pull away and cough.

     “I’m sorry,” he gasped, “I couldn’t take it all.”

    The medic settled back on his pedes and wiped the edge of his mouth. He looked in a daze at the red sticky substance left behind on his digits tips. Once, he could encourage others to come there, but it seemed he didn’t have much of a magical touch anymore. When he looked back up to the seeker he had turned, exposing his flared wings and valve to him.

     Starscream didn’t expect the medic to press against him from behind and wrap his servos around his waist, one grasping out for his spike and the other wandering his chassis. Given Ratchet’s lecherous desire to consume his spike the seeker had been expected to stretch a little before filling the medic with it.  Now it seemed the medic had different ideas.

     “Ratchet,” he exclaimed before interrupting himself with a shudder.

     The medic couldn’t know that he loved feel of another's metal pressed against his backstruts and wings. This beautiful grounder stroked his spike with the delicate flats of his digittips. Pressing his rock hard core against him, not entering yet but the heat was so very close to it. Starscream rasped out a surprised moan and reached a servo to pull Ratchet’s helm into the crook of his neck.

     When Ratchet was giving head it was nice.  There was the heated exhale against his spike and the gentle push of his lips and glossa. All of those saccharine sensations were concentrated on his spike so it was easier to hold back, easier to not moan and easier to know that Ratchet was sated. He expected Ratchet to climb on top, to push Starscream’s spike inside and ride it. That was fine with him; it gave him control of the sensation to only feel the heat of Ratchet’s panel on his unique tip. Not many lasted long once spiked and he wanted Ratchet to crave him, to think of that sensation in his valve every time they passed. He wanted him to want him enough to come begging for it later. Now, Ratchet’s digits were wrapped around his spike, firmly passing over his tip with his thumb. His spike was between Starscream’s spread pedes and he could feel his hot venting against his neck cables.

     He called out his name again and was rewarded with gentle bites to his cabling. He nudged the other’s helm away to kiss him, passionately, hoping to calm down the medic. He wanted him to dirty talk more, but this was more than Starscream thought could happen. Did Ratchet do this with every Autobot? Did these work worn hands trace Optimus’ biolights as well? Did he plant such passionate kisses on the face of that two wheeler? Did Bumblebee feel the heat of that white spike between his legs as he gave out inaudible noises of pleasure? Or could Starscream believe he was an exception?

      The servo on his spike released and he wanted to riot at the loss. But those trailing digits found their way to the entrance of his valve, tracing the edges of his rim coaxing his fluids out. It wasn’t like Starscream was dry from all this fuss, but he wasn’t complaining. A single digit curled into the wet beginnings of his valve. It became harder to remain braced on bent knees, slinging his servos behind around Ratchet’s helm. That digit wriggled in further, stretching his mesh and forcing a harsh moan from his audials. He had tried so hard to be quiet. But there was no sense in it now that the medic’s digits were seeking out soft spots in his valve mesh, wriggling it to make room to thrust.

     His valve clamped down once the thrusting began it was far too gentle and slow but it still made trembles wrack his frame. He didn’t mean to scrape his taloned servos on Ratchet’s helm but the medic made no protest, instead diligently thrust up into his valve.

     Starscream began to move against the digit, assisting with the slick in and out that spread him. Encouraged by the lack of friction, Ratchet inserted a second digit alongside of the first, causing Starscream to drip fluids onto the berth. He would insert his digits deep within and then spread them apart as he exited making Starscream whine with the luxurious feel of being pulled apart. In a desperate attempt, he wrenched his helm back to crash into Ratchet’s mouth, kissing him feverously.

     The seeker drew away from the kiss and reached between his pedes to guide the spike into his entrance, pushing up against it to line them so Ratchet could push in. And he did. But Starscream could only wonder if this was because the medic was desperate and would it be so wrong to want more of this.

     Starscream’s moan was the loudest when Ratchet hit the back of his valve, raking across his ceiling node with the deep seated spike.

     “Ah, sorry,” the medic said in a deep rasp, making Starscream not care if Ratchet fucked every Vehicon in the Decepticon army, “I’ll be more gentle.”

     He couldn’t keep his voice down. He didn’t care if every Autobot was privy to their exchange. Starscream was a marked mech- if this kind of carnal pleasure was his last he wanted everyone to know. True to his word, Ratchet braced his hips and went slower. Starscream assisted with each thrust, keeping up a constant rhythm, every pull bringing a gasp for cool air, and every push deep within his throbbing valve causing a scraping moan to gasp out.

     Ratchet had no shortage of love noises; with each exhale there was a new moan, a new mewl for release. When Starscream would slump forward, exhausted with the effort of keeping himself upright, Ratchet would grasp his edged hips and pound feverishly into him, causing their duet of lusty cries to crescendo. Starscream would scramble upright, not wanted to crash into overload, not wanting their interfacing to stop. But there was only so much longer he could last.

     “Ratchet, I want to overload. I want to overload with you please,” Starscream did his best to not let pleasure wreck his voicebox with static.

     Ratchet kissed at his neck cabling again causing shivers of electricity to roll through the seeker. His wings flared to stabilize as the medic firmly grasped his pedes, spreading them further and- Primus- how he thrust with reckless passion into his valve, rendering him immobile with the pressure in front of him and behind. There was no escaping the warm servo on his spike either, now wet only by the transfluids gushing from his tip. It would make a mess, a mess all over Ratchet’s precious berth.

     It didn’t matter anymore. That firm white spike was stained lavender with the mix of their transfluids. His unwilling frame finally collapsed onto all fours and he tilted his hips up into each thrust the medic gave crashing into his axling, forcing that spike deeper and deeper until it hit his node each time, pushed into that deep place causing his wings to flare and cry out the medic’s name. That spike now squelched into him, squeezing out their fluids over and over until his transfluids gushed around the white spike and arched, splattering out and up from everywhere as Starscream came. Ratchet was dragged further into him, his guttural groan sounding out as the seekers overload dragged out his own.

     “I love the way you fill me, Ratchet,” Starscream panted out, collapsing forward and stretching his wings out.

     The medic said nothing, which made the seeker worried look over his shoulder at the medic. He looked bewildered which made Starscream feel guilty.

     “I was supposed to call you a good little Autobot,” Ratchet half whispered.

     Starscream let his helm hit the berth, Ratchet was always so concerned with others. It was far too selfish to believe that he was his alone. He stayed on the berth as the other stood up, presumably to leave him to himself. However, the medic left and returned to wipe off their frames with a soft cloth and Starscream knew he would never be content until he had him all to himself.


End file.
